Oh dear! Bringing home the bacon (or venison)

11 August 2017 7:50AM

They say there’s a first time for everything and this week I’ve certainly done something I have never attempted before.

It was an ordinary Tuesday night and the girls decided it was time for a run and a bit of a social get-together.

With holidays and families and the usual life stuff, it felt like ages since we’d all been out as a group.

I’d missed Monday’s BodyFit session as my leg is still giving me gyp – as I sit and type this, it’s now merrily throbbing away to itself and I’m not even moving.

I didn’t really want to aggravate it but really wanted to see the gang, so forced myself into the inappropriate Lycra and drove to Cockermouth.

It was fortunate as I have a source in the town for meat direct from farms.

I don’t ask and she doesn’t tell, but I get emails every so often about mutton from the South Lakes and I drop in to her house and pick it up.

I figure it’s how a drugs cartel might operate (sorry, been watching Breaking Bad) but on a more carnivore kind of level.

Anyway, she’s been emailing for what seems like months about a new supplier of venison, but the situation hasn’t been quite right for her to get it (I presumed the DEA, or possibly Defra, were on her case).

The husband got a message on Monday. “Is she running tonight? The eagle has landed and the owl is hooting loudly.”

Or possibly “The meat’s in the freezer. My husband will be at home. Tell her to come and get it.”

“Perfect,” I thought. “I’ll go running and then go to her house and pick it up.”

We went up the Greenway as per, and I managed most of it, with no twinges to speak of. Then, as we were coming back, we diverged slightly and chose a different route home.

We went through the Slatefell estate (where we were chased by some delightfully ‘polite’ boys who thought it was hilarious that we were doing this for fun) and down on to Main Street.

We were passing my supplier’s house and it was an opportunity too good to miss. I knocked on the door, panting and sweating with Janette loitering behind me.

She was obviously acting as lookout in case we got busted.

Although if she had shouted “rozzers” I doubt I could have run very far.

The goods were handed over – I’d forgotten I’d asked for a haunch and how big a haunch is – and my dealer threw in a shoulder as a bonus.

We left, with Janette clutching the shoulder and me hugging the haunch.

For some reason, we broke into a run back to the Lakes Homecentre.

So there I was, cuddling the venison (it was lovely and cool), running down the street. Never done that before.

It struck me there’s a hashtag doing the rounds on social media that says #runlikeyoustoleit. I’ve even got a T-shirt with it on.

This week, cuddling my vension, I’ve invented a new one – #runlikeyouaremiddle class – but I don’t think running with frozen joints of meat will really catch on...

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